


Define Reality

by Vofastudum



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Alternate Universe - Westworld Fusion, Blaise Zabini is a Little Shit, Constructed Reality, F/M, Hermione Granger does not remember who she is, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Las Vegas, Memory Alteration, POV Draco Malfoy, Protective Draco Malfoy, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:55:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29965998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vofastudum/pseuds/Vofastudum
Summary: Voldemort won the war.And for the entertainment of his followers he designed a park.A place you could do anything, be anything, fill any dirty fantasy as long as you had the money."It's not real, they're not real people" they say.But he finds Her.And it is real! She is real!AU where Hermione Granger has no idea who she is. And where Draco Malfoy finds out he cares.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 3
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is inspired by HBO:s Westworld.
> 
> I promise regular updates! No tight scedule, not weekly, but regular!

Sun shines down from the sky.  
The birds sing and the sky is blue.  
Just like it was before.

No darkness fell upon the world when Harry Potter fell.  
No darkness covered the sky when Voldemort claimed his throne as the minister of magic.  
The world rolled the same still.  
But everything was different.

They got what they wanted: a magical society, a pureblood rule, honor to the old traditions.  
Justice for all.  
The muggleborns were taken care of.  
And so was the resistance.

‘The beginning of a new era’, they said.  
And he should have been pleased.  
But somehow it didn’t feel completely right.  
Like he had lost the place he had in this world.  
Like he didn’t know what he wanted, now that it was offered to him.

And many others felt the same.  
They wanted change.  
So Voldemort gave them entertainment.

He built a park, an alternative world, ‘A land of dreams.’ They called it.  
A world where everything was possible, and everything was made for you.

The place itself was a mirror image of a muggle town in America: Las Vegas, the sin city.  
For a significant fee, you could enter and do whatever you liked.  
There were multiple storylines to explore, more than enough gambling, nightclubs, girls, boys, bandits, cheaters, private parties, business… whatever you wanted.  
The choices were limitless.

But that’s where the dream ended, and the real twist came in picture.  
The people living there, making it all happen,  
they were the muggleborns,  
the rebels,  
the convicted,  
the not worthy.

Voldemort with his team had made them into puppets in the playground for the powerful.  
Wiped their memories and created storylines they followed, days in and out. The stories were like plays that had a beginning and an end with a grand finale.  
Like well programmed machines they played their part, got wiped clean after each round and put into the loop again.  
To do it all over again.

It was so easy to forget they were real once.  
So easy to forget they were once human.  
Because now, they were just characters in their stories.  
Acting the parts to please the customers.  
Mindless, besides their storylines.  
Prisoners without really knowing it…

The park never fascinated him.  
There was enough to keep up in the real world.  
Enough job to keep his father’s business running, to try to keep up with Astoria’s wedding planning. To figure out what he really wanted out of life.  
He didn’t have time to play with puppets.

“Come on Draco, you can’t judge without seeing it!” Blaise tells him, handing him a drink.

“I can think of a better use for my money.”

“You can’t, if you haven’t seen it! It’s freedom at it’s best!”

He shrugs, “Isn’t it twisted? to see their faces again?”

He thinks of Potter and his gang.  
Of people he used to go to school with.

“I mean, we knew them once.”

But Blaise shakes his head, “It’s not like they’re really themselves! It’s not like they’re real.”

“But they are?”

“Not in a way they were before. Don’t be so sappy, Draco! It’s not like they’re aware of what's happening to them! They’re programmed to do what they do.”

How can someone program people? He wonders but agrees finally anyway.  
Agrees to see it for himself, to be able to judge.  
.  
.  
.

Lights.  
That’s the first thing he sees.  
Millions of lights in all colors imaginable.  
Flashing billboards, fountains spraying water hundreds of meters high, music and laughter and the clinging of the gambling machines.

“Welcome Draco! To the sin city!” Blaise announces next to him, “There’s a muggle saying I’ve heard: What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”

He lets Blaise to guide him across the streets.  
Looks at the people they pass.  
Thinking how many of them really want to be here,  
and how many are puppets.

“How can you tell who is real and who is not?”

“You can’t! That’s the glory of it!” Blaise turns to grin at him, “Except you can’t hurt other guests. There are protections preventing that.”

“So I can’t just hex anyone?”

Blaise laughs and shakes his head, “Draco, Draco, Draco. This is a muggle town. We don’t hex anyone here. We use guns!”

He pulls something from his pocket and shows him, “Much more brutal, much more satisfying.”

“What happens to the ones that get killed?”

Blaise shrugs, “I think that’s why they don’t let us use magic to the puppets. Gun wounds are easier to fix. They just patch them right up, wipe clean and put in a new loop.”

They enter a casino.  
The red matts and crystal crowns seem to be whispering: Feeling lucky? Just spend it!

He makes his way to the bar, orders a whiskey and sits to look around.  
It’s magnificent, he has to give that to the people who design these things.  
Everything is glistering and people are laughing.  
Even the atmosphere makes you feel lucky.  
But he feels out of place here.

“Hello, handsome.”

There’s a woman next to his table.  
Her blond hair is gathered up, there are diamonds around her neck and she’s wearing a gold dress that hugs her curves.

He nods as a greeting.  
“You looked like you could use some company.” She sits down on a chair next to his and puts her hand on his knee, “Are you new here?”

She’s beautiful, he has to admit.  
Her hair is shiny, her lips perfectly red and her skin flawless.  
But the fact that she’s not real, he can see it miles away.

“Would you like me to show you around?” She leans closer, “You could show me what you like.”  
Somehow her words give him chills.

“No thank you. I need to find my friend.” He gets up and leaves the girl behind.

So that’s what this is about?  
Blaise is sitting on the table, cards in his hands, not even noticing him.  
So, he wanders to the gambling machines, plays a few coins and after checking that the blond girl has a new victim, goes to fill his glass.

“Not really your cup of tea, huh?”

He turns around to see who's talking.  
And nearly spills his glass.

She’s standing by the bar, her wild curls picked up to bare her long neck. The diamonds in her ears glister in the lights and the deep blue full-length dress she wears seems to be hanging on her with nothing but a few strings.  
If the girl from before was flawless, this one is a vision.

But the problem is, he knows this girl!  
And the way she looks at him, with one eyebrow raised, looks so much like her, he can’t think of her as not real.

But the real her would never lower herself to something like this.

“Cat caught your tongue?” She laughs lightly.

And he knows he should say something,  
but it feels like all coherent thoughts have left his head.

He hated this girl at school.  
Hated how she beat him in every subject.  
Hated her nose in the air and her over the top Gryffindor pride.

But now she’s here.

And it’s not her,  
but it is,  
but it isn’t.  
She’s a puppet like the rest of them.

“Everything alright?” She has taken a step closer to him and her brown eyes meet his.

She looks a little worried now.  
And her eyes,  
her eyes are deep, and shining and real.

He blinks, “Yeah, fine.”

She lets out a tingling laugh, “Thank God. I thought I needed to call the paramedics!”

Then she offers him her slender hand, “My name’s Holly.”

No, it isn’t, he wants to tell her.  
But shakes her hand anyway, “Draco Malfoy.”

She lifts her eyebrows, “Draco… like a Dracon? I like the sound of that.”

No, you don’t.

“You looked like you could use some guidance!” And before he gets to protest, she has hooked her hand with his and turned him around.

She knows people, whispers their names to him as they pass by, tells him the best gamblers and the certain wins.  
She laughs at his remarks.  
Lightly, happily  
and not once does it sound forced.

The staff seems to know her, and she chats with them too, introducing him.  
And he’s not sure what he’s doing.  
Buying her champagne and playing rounds, while she cheers.  
Acting like this is normal.  
Acting like she’s a regular girl, in a casino, seeking his company.

“Malfoy!”

Before he turns around, he knows who it is.  
And he really couldn’t care less about talking to them.

Rabastian Lestrange is smiling coldly at him, “I see, you’ve found your way here too.”

“Rabastian, Always a pleasure.” He nods.

Truth is, he doesn’t like the man.  
Not one bit.  
He’s cruel and brutal and ignorant and as crazy as his sister-in-law.  
He doesn’t much like most of the senior Death Eaters, but Rabastian is one of the worst.  
And now, the man is looking at her, like she’s a pray.

But she just smiles.

“Enjoying yourself, Malfoy?” Rabastian asks, not taking his eyes off of her.

Somehow it makes him want to step in front of her.  
To shield her…

Why does he care?

But Rabastian doesn’t wait for his answer, “I see you’ve found yourself a plaything already.”  
The man turns to him, “You can have her for tonight. But you should be aware, usually she’s mine to play with.”

He gives her a predatory smile and turns to leave, “Feisty, but I like them hard to get.”

He walks away.

Draco looks at the girl next to him, but she doesn’t seem offended.

“Did you know him?”

She shrugs, “This is a popular casino. Many men come here. He’s no different than most.”  
Then she smiles at him again, “Why don’t we get another drink?”

But he has realized something.  
Something about the way Rabastian talked about her.  
And the way the blond girl offered herself to him before.  
He grabs her hand and turns her to him.

“Are you…”

How do you ask a girl if she’s a hooker?  
Is that what they did to girls like Hermione Granger?  
He feels stupid not to have realized it before.

“Is there a price for you?” He whispers, hoping no one else hears.

But she, she just looks at him amused and shakes her head slightly.

“Oh, if it’s easy company you’re looking for, I can find you a girl.” She tells him like it’s nothing, “But me? Well let’s say it’s a little harder you need to work for me.”

He doesn’t ask but she tells him anyway.  
“I’m not interested in your money, Draco.” She leans closer, “But your charm… it might work, if you put your mind to it.”

Then she turns and leads him to the bar.  
And the night goes on in her company.  
But what Rabastian said, bothers him the whole time.  
Because there’s no way that man was patient enough to charm someone, someone like her.  
He looks at her animated hands as she talks, but can’t help thinking what has been done to her?

“Draco?” She snaps her fingers in front of his face.

He blinks.

“You went away a little while there.”

He looks at her.  
Her flawless skin, perfectly lined eyes, full lips.  
How many times has she been remade? How many times have they patched her up and put her back here? What would she say, if she knew what’s been done to her?  
Did she know?  
Was she still somewhere there? Behind those glistering eyes? Was she there, screaming?

BANG!

A gunshot echoes through the hall.  
Without thinking he dives down, pulling her with him.

“Shit.” She mutters, “Robbers.”

More shots.  
People screaming and running around.

“Come on.” He drags her with him behind the bar.

A pleasant evening has suddenly turned into an action movie.  
They can’t hurt you, he tries to think.  
But it doesn’t help.  
The adrenaline makes his heart pump and blood hum in his ears.  
He takes out the gun Blaise gave him earlier.

The chandelier above them rattles and he pulls her closer to shield her.

“Are you okay?”

Only then does he look at her.  
She has a gun too and she’s looking at him with no fear, “Can’t be too careful these days, can you?”

Even when she’s not herself,  
she still somehow is…

Behind the counter shots are fired and people are running.

“Let’s get out of here.” She takes his hand and together they leave the shelter.

He has been on raids.  
Has fought in a war.  
Nearly killed the headmaster.  
But this… this is something different.

Maybe it’s because he doesn’t really have to fear for his life?  
But somehow does anyway.

Maybe it’s the difference a gun makes compared to a wand?  
Or the excitement?  
The fact that this is just a game?  
That he’s just a part of a story?

They run through the casino.  
Her hand in his and guns pointed forward.  
The robbers are wearing masks and she aims at them with no hesitation.  
And he follows her example, shoots the bad guys out of the way.

‘Much more brutal’ Blaise had said.  
And he can see it now, as the wounds start to bleed. As the blood of a robber he shot sprays to his face.  
As the hems of her blue dress turn red.

They take cover behind a pillar.  
She turns to face him.  
Her wild hair has gotten loose and there are bloodstains on her face.

“Are you okay?” She takes his face between her hands.

Her hands are warm and her eyes so bright.  
And the adrenaline makes him feel almost giddy.

He nods as she moves his hair out of his face with a soft caress.

“Okay, the door is there.” She nods her head, “let’s get out of here!”

And they’re running again.

She’s leading and he’s securing the back.  
They make it to the doors.  
She pushes them open as the last shot echoes in his ears.

The street is full of people as they stumble out.  
But the moment the doors shut behind them, locking the mayhem inside, she falls on the ground.  
And as he reaches for her, he sees the blood.  
Red and real and definitely hers.

“Grang…Holly”

It doesn’t feel like a game anymore.  
Doesn’t feel like she’s not real anymore.

He flips her around and sees the wound on her stomach.  
And she’s bleeding out, rapidly.

“No…”

He doesn’t even know what he’s doing.  
But he knows the bleeding needs to stop.  
So hastily he puts his hands on her wound.

“Draco…” She whispers faintly as his hands cover in her blood.

“It’s going to be alright… we’ll get someone to…” He looks at her then.

And she looks like she’s dying.  
Her lips are white and her hands shaking.

“Don’t go under!” Remotely he realizes his voice is shaking too.

“Draco?” It’s Blaise.

Suddenly he’s standing over them, looking questioning.

“Fuck, Blaise, Don’t just stand there! Get some help!” He spits, trying not to panic.

But the girl under his hands is shaking and taking only short breaths.  
No one has ever died on him before.

“Come on Draco, she’s already gone!”

“No, she’s not! We need to get her to a healer… or whatever!”

He lifts her hand to her face “Granger! Hermione! You hear me? Don’t go under!”

The blood on his hands paint her white cheek crimson.  
Once more she opens her eyes.  
Smiles at him weakly.

And then the men in white uniforms move him out of the way and drag her to the back of a car that speeds away.

He’s sitting on the pavement.  
Covered in her blood… blinking.  
Trying to realize what just happened.

“What a night!” Blaise bellows and pats him on a shoulder.

He wipes his face to the sleeve of his fine jacket, only then realizing his face is wet.

It takes a while for him to understand the other man is laughing.  
Someone just died and Blaise is laughing!

“Come on.” His friend hoists him up and straightens his jacket, “It’s not real mate! Try to put that in your head! Let’s go!”

There it is again: ‘It’s not real’  
But just minutes ago, when Hermione Granger bled to death under his hands, it was as real as it gets.


	2. Chapter 2

Glitter and gold. 

She’s standing by the bar with a glass of champagne in her hand. 

Diamonds and heels.  
Tuxedos.  
Music and laughter.   
And the clinging of money. 

She makes her way through the crowd.   
Smiles at people.   
Waves her hand.   
Mingles. 

Robbers come.   
She hides behind the bar.   
.  
.  
.  
Robbers come   
She pulls out her gun and helps people out.   
.  
.  
.  
Robbers come  
She’s the first one to get shot  
.  
.  
.  
Robbers come   
She grabs the man’s hand and together they make their way out.   
.  
.  
.

Someone spots her.   
Takes her out before the casino is robbed.   
She shows him the best places in town.   
.  
.  
.  
A girl smiles at her across the hall.   
She salutes her glass.   
Spends the evening with her.   
And kisses her in the bathroom when the robbers come in.   
.  
.  
.  
She gets an invitation.   
And the man is charming.   
up to a point. 

Until she’s dragged to the dark alley.   
She fights.   
But he’s stronger.   
So she gives in.   
.  
.  
.  
Every night.   
A new story.   
A new loop.   
New people.   
New life.   
.  
.  
.  
Sometimes she gets a feeling of Déjà vu.   
And then shakes her head and goes on. 

This is her life.   
This glitter of a casino.   
There’s no way she’s been here before.


	3. Chapter 3

He realizes now why people spend so much money on the park. 

It’s addictive.   
Once you’ve visited, it’s nearly impossible to get it out of your mind.   
It invades his thoughts.   
Makes it impossible to concentrate on the here and now. 

And in his dreams, she dies in his hands over and over again.   
Her blood pulsing out of her system under his hands, while he can’t do a thing to stop it.   
She smiles under the brilliant lights and then she falls.   
Her hand graces his face one last time, leaving a path of wet blood on his cheek.   
And he wakes up, startled and disoriented. 

Death was always his downfall.   
Even at seventeen, when he wanted to be a good Death Eater, he couldn’t bear the thought of death.   
Couldn’t watch what they did to the prisoners.   
Ran from the battle.   
And turned his back to the horrors happening in his house. 

‘Too soft’ His father had complained.   
But nothing made a difference.   
No matter how angry he was for himself. 

And now his dreams threw her death at him night after night. 

Blaise had told him they fixed the puppets up and put them back.  
But what if she was too far gone?   
Why did he even care? 

He had lost count of all his classmates, who had died in the war.  
And he didn’t particularly care about her before either.   
He never liked her.   
He even told his friends once he wished she’d be dead. 

But when it happened.   
When she first smiled so radiantly and then whispered his name with her dying breath…   
Somehow it chilled his insides,  
shook his core. 

“Are you going back anytime soon?” He asks Blaise casually at lunch. 

Blaise smirks, “Hooked already?”

He shrugs.   
Trying to convince himself it’s not that.   
That it’s just the fact he saw so little of it last time.   
It’s just that he wants to know more of it. 

Maybe there’s business to be made?   
Perhaps an investment the Malfoy Corporation could make?   
Yes, isn’t that reason enough? 

.  
.  
.

The lights are just as blinding as they were the last time he was here.   
The music just as loud. 

He enters the casino and Blaise follows, complaining that if they wanted something new, they should not go to the same place! 

She’s there, by the bar in her blue dress.   
Unharmed.   
He almost lets out a breath of relief.   
She’s fine.   
It’s like Blaise said: It’s not real.

He doesn’t go to her though, but gives in and follows Blaise out of the casino. 

“Great! I’m ready for something more exciting than good old gambling!” 

They find their way into an underground bar.  
Spend the night playing cards with some bandits who plan to rob a wealthy millionaire staying in a luxury hotel.   
He recognizes only one of them.   
Lee Jordan has a long scar across the other side of his face.   
It makes the man look like a badass. 

It’s late, and they’ve had a little more than one shot of whiskey, when they finally stumble back to the streets. 

“I don’t know about you, but I’m going to find myself company for the night!” Blaise starts to make his way towards a cocktail bar, “Lucky this city never sleeps!” 

He hesitates.   
Even in his state of drunkenness there’s something in Blaise’s words that bother him.   
Not the fact he wants someone to warm his bed…It wouldn't take too long to find a willing girl.   
That much he has gathered already.   
But there’s something… 

Oh, his fiancée back at home perhaps?   
But no, him and Astoria are nothing but another business deal. 

He watches a man and a woman leaving the bar.   
She’s laughing at something he said, and he looks too pleased for himself.   
As they pass, he gets a glimpse of the girl’s face.   
And if he even remotely considered getting himself a girl from the bar too, all those thoughts vanish. 

The girl in a short glitter dress and high stilettos, is Loony Lovegood.   
Willing girl…   
No.   
These girls, they’re not willing.   
Not really. 

It’s not a rape if the other party is willing,  
but what if they’re not in control of themselves?   
What if they don’t really know what they want?   
Suddenly he wants to throw up. 

.  
.  
.

He lies in a bed of a luxurious hotel room.   
The curtains are open and from the wall sized windows the city of million possibilities shines below him. 

He tried to sleep but couldn’t.   
It’s not her dying that bothers him tonight.   
But the face of a blond girl in the arm of a stranger.   
‘They don’t know what’s been done to them.’ He tries to think.   
Tries to fill his head with a thought they have no idea about their actions tomorrow.   
What you don’t know can’t hurt you.   
Right? 

That’s what this place is built for: Gambling and excitement,  
fulfilling fantasies, no matter how crazy.   
He closes his eyes and a sign of a strip-bar flashes in his mind. 

They don’t know what’s been done to them… 

When he finally falls asleep, he dreams of Rabastian pushing a gun against Granger’s head.   
“You’re my plaything. I do with you what I please.” 

And she screams.   
Like she screamed in real life when his aunt tortured her on their floor.   
And he screams too, bolting up in his bed, covered in cold sweat. 

He should have taken her with them tonight!   
Should have gotten her out of there before Rabastian,  
someone else,  
or the robbers find her.   
Before someone scars her again. 

Maybe he has lost his mind.   
Or maybe it’s what this place does to people.   
But he puts his clothes back on and makes his way back to the streets.   
Back towards the casino. 

It’s six in the morning.   
And he has no idea what he’s doing.   
No idea what he does when — if — he finds her. 

He just knows he needs to find her.   
To make sure she’s okay tonight.   
Maybe help her get home safely.   
Wherever she may live here?   
Do the puppets have homes here? 

Most of the people have already gone to sleep — Or some other activities.   
Because the streets are almost empty.   
But only almost.   
There’s still music coming from the bars and drunken people making their way somewhere.

He’s standing outside the casino doors only to find it closed.   
There’s a bullet hole on the door. 

“Sir?” 

He turns around.   
The man in front of him looks like a detective.   
“There was an incident in this casino last night. Are you part of the investigation?” 

Ah, his chance of playing an auror? 

He just shakes his head, “I was just looking for someone.” 

The man nods, “A few were taken to the city hospital. Others were questioned and let home. Unfortunately, I can’t help you further.” 

He nods and leaves, hoping she made it out alive.   
Hoping she made it home.   
Doubting it even himself.   
.  
.  
.

He doesn’t find Blaise the next morning.   
He isn’t in his room and the reception has no idea about his whereabouts.   
But he is hungry and frustrated, so he leaves to the sunny street on his own. 

It looks different by daylight without the blinding lights that twist reality into a world of wonder.   
The daylight makes the water in the fountains glitter and the streets turn into sunny sidewalks. 

People passing him don’t pay him much attention.   
It feels safer.   
Almost. 

He doesn’t know what it is, but something makes him constantly wary of everyone who even looks at his direction.   
It’s like the whole place is just waiting for him to take the bait offered. 

The baits are the beginnings of a storyline he can participate in. Like the gambling and the detective, the robbers. He could hop in and see where the story leads.  
This is supposed to be a place of freedom.   
And the baits are just calling him for an adventure.   
But all he wants to do is to get away and forget he ever visited. 

And then he thinks of her,  
and ignoring this place exists feels like a crime.   
Maybe he should just obliviate himself?  
At least he’d be rid of this stupid doubt clouding his mind, pulling him forward and drowning him under. 

Someone bumps into him.   
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry!” 

He recognizes her voice before he even looks at her.   
It can’t be random, because the city is huge and there are millions of people and he just happens to walk into her!? 

Their eyes meet.   
And she freezes.   
Looks at him with clouded wide eyes,   
like there’s something she should remember but doesn’t.   
It’s only a millisecond, then she blinks, and the moment is gone. 

“Hello stranger.” She lifts her eyebrows and smiles, that wide brilliant smile that she’d never voluntarily smile at him. 

She’s wearing short shorts and a top that bares her middle.   
Her hair is kept away from her face with a red scarf tied around her head.   
She’s tanned and radiant and… he recognizes he’s staring. 

“Are you looking for something? Can I help you?” She asks cheerily. 

“No, I…” He doesn’t know what to tell her. 

“My name is Holly.” She offers her hand, “Are you travelling alone?” 

Finally, he gets himself under control and shakes her hand. “Draco. I’m looking for my friend who seems to be lost in the delights of this city.” 

She chuckles and an image of her lying bloody on the street flashes his mind. 

“That’s what happens to most visitors here. Draco, you say? Like the constellation?” 

He shrugs and before he gets to stop himself, he mutters, “Most people think of Dragons first…” 

“That’s right! I don’t know why I thought of stars!” 

Because you’re Hermione Granger… he thinks.   
Does she have a different role here? Outside the casino, in daylight? Or how much can she vary her words?   
How much is she ‘real’ and how much a product of programming? 

“Do you want me to show you around? I’ve got the whole day?” 

What else is there for him to do? Blaise is nowhere and they have one more night already paid.  
Despite himself, he nods briefly, “It’s not like I have anything better planned.” 

So she hosts him around the city.   
Doesn’t seem to mind his hesitation, but chats with him freely and shares information.   
And the more he studies her, the more she reminds him of her from their schooldays. 

They haven’t taken everything — only her free will.   
Like it’s not a big deal! 

They have lunch in a small café, and she talks vividly about musicals.   
He tells her he likes Shakespeare and she gets all excited about all the plays going on in the city. 

They walk in the park and feed the ducks.   
And all the time he studies her.   
It’s so easy to get caught up in the image they provide him. 

This girl seems happy and carefree and open.   
If this was true,   
If he’d met a girl like this in real life,  
If someone had the ability to lift the weight, he was carrying around, so easily…   
He’d probably take her home. 

But here — here she could be intended for him.   
Designed to fit in his fantasies, planned to give him what he wanted. 

It’s what this place does to people — plays them for fools.   
And most of them take it happily. Most of them come here for it.   
He’s not going to be one of those people. 

When the sun sets, she takes him to the roof of the highest hotel.   
And when the sun paints the world orange and yellow, she stares at the sunset.   
And he stares at her. 

The longing in her eyes. The look of wistfulness at that moment makes her even more beautiful than the radiant smile. 

“Do you ever think there’s a place for you outside of the life you’re living?” She asks. Not turning her eyes away from the setting sun. 

Something in her words makes him flinch, “What do you mean?” 

She turns to him and smiles a little sadly, “I don’t know… but sometimes I wonder if this is all there is? Like, what’s the purpose?” 

Should she be thinking things like that?   
Is this really part of her narrative? 

He shrugs, “I think that’s what most people think.” 

Is someone listening to their conversations?   
Do they know what she’s talking to him at the moment?   
If he told her, that yes, there is a life outside of this, would they come and take him away? 

“What if I wanted to leave?” She looks back to the horizon. 

He glances around, like waiting for someone to charge at them behind the corner.   
Suddenly, before he realizes what’s happening, she’s standing right in front of him.   
Looking up with her hazel eyes.   
He doesn’t remember how to breathe.   
And he’s not sure if it’s the proximity of her or the dangerous way this conversation has turned into. 

“Would you take me?” 

Her question makes him want to sigh in relief.   
Because it sounds like it’s just another storyline.   
Another offering for him to play a hero.   
Take the girl away from her boring life, into something exciting and new. 

So he answers the most cliché thing that comes to his mind, “I have a fiancée.” 

At that, she starts to laugh again and slaps his chest playfully, “Of course you do! Silly me! Why would a man like you be on a free market!?” 

The shadow of dread her questions had cast, lifts and the light mood returns. She tells him she wants to show him the casinos and they agree to meet at the same place he met her the first time.   
He’s not sure why he continues to play this game.   
Why does he fall to the trap they made for him, over and over again?   
The trap that is her eyes, her laughter, the way she feels familiar, even when she’s really not.  
The way she feels more real than anything else here.

.  
.  
.

She’s standing by the bar wearing the same dress she wore last time.   
Her dress sparkles in the lights, like the diamonds in her ears. 

And he can’t help but awe how brilliant those who design this place are.   
They seem to know exactly how to get people hooked.   
Because no matter how he thinks it’s just created to trap him, there’s no way to stop his mind from wandering in places where he strips that dress from her.   
Where her perfectly red lips whisper his name.   
Where she runs her fingers on his chest.   
Where he can explore every curve of that flawless body. 

But no.   
Because it wouldn’t be right.   
It wouldn’t be by her free will.   
It would be a violation.   
A rape basically.   
And he would never go so low!   
No matter how they offered it to him on a silver platter! 

She waves at him from the bar.   
But when he gets close enough, she pauses again.   
Her eyes flick to him and for a brief moment, he thinks he can see panic in them. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks before he can stop himself. 

But she just stares at him, blinking rapidly.   
“You look like you could use some company.” She whispers and lifts her hand to his cheek. 

He’s not sure what’s going on.   
Then she grabs his hand and drags him around a corner. 

“Do you ever get a feeling you’ve been here before?” She whispers, glancing around her.   
He doesn’t answer but gapes at her.   
Suddenly everything about her seems different. Alert and puzzled. 

“When you came in, I was sure this has happened before!” She takes his hand into hers, “I… It’s like I’ve dreamt it!” 

She remembers?   
Suddenly his worries on the roof don’t seem so silly.   
He doesn’t know what to say to her as she turns his hand around, “I was bleeding… you tried to stop it.” 

She puts his palm on her stomach, right where the blood pooled out of her. 

“Was it a dream?” Her voice is somehow desperate, like she’s begging for his confirmation.

He looks around.   
Are they listening?   
Do they know she’s waking up? 

“Was it?” She demands with a small voice.   
He shakes his head so briefly he’s not sure if even she noticed.   
But the look on her face tells him she did. 

“How can I be here?” She lets his hand go and puts both of hers on his chest.   
“I died. How am I here?” 

BANG! 

She falls towards him.   
The moment he catches her and lowers her on the ground he already knows, they did listen.   
She remembered and she had the nerve to question it  
and now she’s dying in his hands again.


End file.
